


Long Distance

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Category: DCU (Comics), Heroes in Crisis (comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Heroes in Crisis Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17608400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: “Why would I bringlubeto rehab?”“You’re gonna be there for two months,” Jason replied, as though it were obvious. “Seems like bad planning to leave it behind when it’s just you and your hand for that long.”





	Long Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, Heroes in Crisis is really fucking me up so I decided to write it out if my system and wound up with 5K of feelings and porn. 
> 
> I have not and do not plan to edit this - feel free to let me know about any major issues but otherwise please just enjoy it for the emotionally cathartic trainwreck it is.

Roy had barely gotten the door to his assigned room shut behind him before his phone was trilling in his pocket. He swore under his breath and fumbled it out, trying not to drop it or the bundle of white robes and creepy gold mask the Stepford farm family had supplied as part of his arrival package. He was fully unsurprised to see Jason’s contact information - or one iteration of it, anyway - flashing across the screen, and he thumbed the slider bar to accept the call before he’d even really thought about it.

“Y’ello?” Roy answered, tossing the bizarre uniform haphazardly atop the modest wooden dresser.

It landed awkwardly, the robe draping off the side in a way that promised wrinkles, but Roy couldn’t muster the energy to worry about it. He didn’t foresee using the spooky costume for any reason - he’d never enforced a particularly strict separation between his civilian and hero identities and he wasn’t ashamed of being in rehab. Besides, he doubted that anyone who knew him well would be surprised to find him here and he didn’t much care about the opinions of strangers.

“How is it?” Jason asked intently, barreling full-speed past normal conversational conventions and skipping straight to the well-intentioned interrogation. Roy grinned and flopped onto the bed tucked neatly into the corner. Jason’s voice was as crisp and clear as if he were lying beside Roy on the narrow and slightly stiff mattress, with its hideously homey floral chintz quilt. Thank God for top quality superhero gear.

Probably, Roy considered wistfully, this whole Sanctuary situation wouldn’t seem quite so miserably boring if Jason actually _were_ here beside him, but that would require Jason to muster even the tiniest splinter of desire to address his multitude of issues. Roy loved the guy to distraction, but he didn’t see that happening during Jason’s second lifetime.

“S’fine,” he drawled, settling back into the wrought-iron bed frame with a telling squeak and letting his free hand flop to the quilt. He patted it absently a couple of times and mourned briefly for what could have been if his best friend wasn’t such a stubborn ass. Ah, well. “Good as anything can be when you’re surrounded by a thousand miles of wheat on every side with nobody to talk to and there’s no booze to be found.”

“I thought the whole point of going was to stay sober,” Jason said, amused. Roy snorted.

“Well, sure,” he agreed. “But, what, I wasn’t gonna look?”

Jason sighed, sweet and long-suffering. Roy tried not to preen too much at the subtle demonstration of affection.

“What am I going to do with you, Harper?” he asked, and Roy could practically picture him shaking his head.

Actually, Roy considered, perking up a bit, that wasn’t a bad idea. Much as he loved Jason’s dulcet and slightly husky tones, he liked the vicious tilt of his smirk, the light in those blue eyes, even more.

“You could video chat with me,” Roy offered. “That’s a thing you could do.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Jason hedged. Roy assumed that was code for ‘I’m currently out on patrol because I’m clinically incapable of letting it go for an hour to call my best friend on the last day he’ll be able to freely speak with me for a couple of months.’ It was lucky for Jason that Roy had never been the jealous type.

“Not too busy to check up on me,” he replied pointedly. “Super subtle on that, by the way.”

There was a long, guilty pause, and Jason groused, “I’m not _checking_ _up_ on you. I’m checking _in_ _with_ _you_.” He hesitated for a beat - there came the soft scuff of boots against rock and a mild grunt that suggested he was currently scaling something, the absolute moron. “There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh,” Roy replied, unimpressed. He wasn’t really angry with Jason - hadn’t been in awhile, if he felt like being honest about his emotions, which was kind of the whole point of coming to Sanctuary in the first place. Of course, he would never let something so banal as the truth rob him of a chance to yank Jason’s chain.

“The difference,” he continued haughtily, “is that one way you’re admitting that you don’t trust me not to fuck this up, and the other way you still don’t trust me, you’re just too much of a chicken shit to say so.”

“I don’t _not_ trust you,” Jason offered. Roy pinched the bridge of his nose and bit down on his smile.

“That’s not really very reassuring, Jay,” he admonished. “It’s _rehab_ , man. Rehab that the Trinity built! You know how hard I’d have to work to fuck up here?”

“You do hate working hard,” Jason agreed, and Roy couldn’t help the burst of laughter that observation startled out of him.

“Come on, Jay,” he wheedled, tucking the phone into his shoulder. He curled his body in toward it, and added, low and hopeful, “I’m turning my phone in tomorrow. Eight weeks you’ve gotta go without my beautiful face on speed dial. You know you want one last look.”

There were a few more gentle ambient noises and then a long, dramatic sigh, before Jason said, “Alright, Arse, get your ugly mug ready.”

Roy squirmed into a vaguely more seated position, holding his phone out in front of him and waiting a patient few seconds before the video call notification came chiming through.

“There’s my - “ he started gleefully, and then yelped in surprise, eyes as big as dinner plates as he leaned in toward the screen to verify what he was seeing. “Whoa! What happened to your hair?”

Jason scrubbed a hand over his obviously fresh buzzcut, cutting a flinty grin at the screen he probably had balanced on his knees.

“You like it?” he asked, cocksure and flirtatious. He was a half-step from wagging his eyebrows seductively, the giant nerd.

Naturally Roy’s only recourse was to shake his head and assure, “Not even a little bit, Jaybird.”

Jason laughed, blue eyes narrowing to delighted slivers, and insisted in a quiet voice that was nearly a croon, “No way. You totally love it.”

He was, of course, correct. Not because Roy had a preference between the prison-shorn look and Jason’s usual neatly coiffed black locks, but because he generally thought Jason was beautiful, regardless. Granted, he didn’t make a habit of waxing poetic about it, but since when had he and Jason needed to say anything aloud to know what the other was thinking?

“I left you alone for thirty-nine hours,” Roy lamented mournfully. He made an exaggeratedly thoughtful face and then snapped his fingers, “You know what? I bet you they’ll refund my admission fee if I show them your picture and explain that you need constant adult supervision. I could be outta here in forty minutes, tops.”

“You’re not an adult, you’re an asshole,” Jason responded blandly.

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“And yet, you missed me so bad you couldn’t wait two days to call me,” Roy observed. “Tell me Jay, was it my sparkling personality you fell for or the fact that I’m a total smoke-show?”

He didn’t really need to bat his eyelashes to punctuate the comedy, but it made Jason snort in the charming, vaguely irritated way that stirred heat in Roy’s belly so he didn’t regret doing it.

“I think we both know which of those is likelier, Carrot Top,” Jason said, shifting a little in his seat. He was backed up against a brick wall of some kind, which meant he was absolutely calling from patrol, the fucker.

“ _Wow_ ,” Roy scoffed, feigning offense. “That’s just mean.”

“Now you have something to talk about in therapy,” Jason said, with a sharp, unapologetic smirk. He was nowhere near as funny as he clearly thought he was, but Roy ducked his head to hide his undoubtedly soppy grin even so.

“Fuck you,” he murmured amiably. “I already have plenty of your shenanigans to talk about, no need to go stacking the deck.”

He glanced back up when there was no pithy rejoinder immediately forthcoming to find Jason studying him with an intent, hooded gaze. There was a tiny furrow at the center of his brow, and the tilt at the corners of his lush mouth spoke more to ruefulness than pleasure.

“Do you?” he asked quietly, a strangely vulnerable sheen to his eyes as he peered curiously from beneath those ridiculous lashes.

Roy frowned, only partially distracted by Jason’s utterly punishing aesthetic appeal, and replied just as softly, “Do I what?”

“Plan to talk about me?”

Roy blinked, surprised. His first instinct was to insist that of _course_ he had no intention of bitching about Jason - theywere best friends. The kind that rescued each other from mortal peril on a rotating schedule, that would die for each other, if push came to martyrdom. Jason was the one guy that Roy knew would always answer his call, no matter what number of lives may hang in the balance. Or, he had been, anyway. Before their misguided duo gig. Before Duela. Before Jason shot Oswald Cobblepot point blank on live television, though he had promised Roy in a chipped, broken murmur that Cobblepot deserved it, and Roy had taken his assurance as gospel.

Roy’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn’t even realized he’d opened it.

“Yeah,” Jason huffed, looking disappointed but unsurprised. “I kinda figured.”

“Shit, man,” Roy tried, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not you, really. It’s just - I just - “

“You don’t owe me any explanations, Harper,” Jason interrupted gently, waving a hand in front of the screen. He dipped an acquiescent little nod, blue gaze burning with sincerity and something warmer that made Roy’s pulse go funny. “You’re there to get your head right. If talking about me helps you do that, go right on ahead.”

Roy had to swallow twice before there was enough moisture in his suddenly dry throat for him to rasp, “Thanks, Jay.”

His eyes were stinging hot, so Roy let his head fall gently back against the curling iron headboard and pressed his palm over his face. He sat there like an idiot for a few long seconds trying to regain his equilibrium. Jason, blessedly, remained silent until Roy managed to take a shaky breath and sigh, feelingly, “ _Fuck_.”

He knew his eyes were probably red and his cheeks splotchy with embarrassment when he let his hand fall away, gaze pinned to the terrible popcorn ceiling, the tepidly spinning blades of the outdated fan. He mustered a slightly brittle grin and said, “You think they’d take me back into town for a farewell bender? I could kill for a drink right now.”

It wasn’t a very funny joke, but Jason laughed anyway. He never shied away from Roy’s uncomfortable brand of humor, even when it wandered into inappropriate and vaguely self-flagellatory territory. Not for the first time, Roy was deeply, painfully grateful to have Jason there laughing with him when nobody else would have been.

“Me too, buddy,” Jason nodded his agreement.

He didn’t look upset in the least, because Bats almost never did - with the exception of Dick, who had too much drama in him to play at aloof and unconcerned the way his brothers could - but there was a thickness to his voice that assured Roy he wasn’t the only one having a Moment here.

“So,” Roy sighed, pushing awkwardly through the emotional quagmire and running a hand through his hair, “you wanna keep talking about our feelings or do you want the nickel tour?”

“Come on,” Jason scoffed teasingly. “I rate at least a dime.”

Roy huffed a laugh and pushed himself to his feet.

“Yeah, sure you do, Big Red.” He held the phone out at arms’ length - far enough to see the scenery of the room behind him while still keeping most of his face on the screen. He glanced over his shoulder, and then back at the video feed, announcing, “Alright, here we go. Welcome to addicts’ paradise, Jaybird. Take in the luxury, the glamour - “

“The hundreds of lace doilies,” Jason cut in, and Roy grinned at him.

“All part of the executive package, my friend,” he assured smoothly. Jason laughed, the familiar rumble of it stirring the heat behind Roy’s sternum up by degrees.

“And check this out!” He wandered across the small room to one of the windows, pulling back a gingham curtain that most people would probably describe using words like ‘rustic’ or ‘quaint.’ The only thing visible beyond the tempered pane was a few trees and the endless sea of golden wheat, shifting lazily in the sluggish afternoon breeze. Wagging his eyebrows in mock enthusiasm, Roy reached out with his free hand and rapped his knuckles gently against the whitewashed window-frame. “Look, ma! No bars! That’s right - guests experience the illusion of freedom at all times.”

Jason covered his mouth with his hand for a second, which was a surefire indicator that if he’d been somewhere safer than a nondescript rooftop in Anywhere City he would have been guffawing.

“Wow,” he said when he’d regained control of himself a spare second later. “It’s practically a five-star resort.”

This time it was Roy’s turn to tamp down on the giddy amusement he felt rushing up through him.

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, ducking his head. “The next eight weeks’ll be all ogling pool boys, sipping piña coladas, and working on my tan.”

Jason’s answering grin was lopsided and fond. “Maybe I should have come.”

It was a joke, Roy knew that. Just Jason saying yes and expanding on the riff Roy himself had started, but he couldn’t help the slightly raw edge to his smile or the soft, melancholy lilt to his voice when he blurted, “I wish you had.”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Jason’s eye. He missed the asshole, sure, and a pretty large and integral part of him wished desperately that Jason had agreed to come along on this particular adventure, but he couldn’t begrudge the other man for declining his invitation. They were both of them packing capital B Baggage, but for all that Roy’s issues had tried their damnedest to do him in, he had never actually died. And despite his many, deeply irritating faults, at least Roy’s estranged father-slash-cool billionaire uncle figure was trying in his own odd and inefficient way to reconcile and make up for his transgressions.

Batman was good at a lot of things, but Roy wouldn’t rank personal or emotional awareness very high on his list of skills. He had yet to meet a bird that had made it through the sidekick gauntlet without some serious damage, and Jason had been through more than most.

“ _Roy_ \- “ Jason started, and something in his voice dug into Roy’s chest and twisted.

He wasn’t sure what Jason was planning to say, but he knew in that moment that he didn’t want to have this discussion. Not here, not now, with the two of them thousands of miles apart or more. Not when they were both squaring up to deal with their demons in their own eccentric and - on Jason’s part - potentially fatal ways.

“You know,” Roy babbled over top of Jason’s aborted statement, “I can think of one view that’s worth more than a nickel.”

Jason was silent for long enough that Roy’s pulse started to hammer in his throat, fear rocking queasily in his gut alongside growing certainty that Jason would press the issue. Until, finally, the other man sighed and acquiesced, “Oh yeah? And what might that be? Farm animal jamboree?”

“Nah,” Roy teased weakly, still staring absently at the carpeted floor. Relief and affection flooded through him in a rush of champagne bubble warmth. “The jamboree got canceled when the cows unionized.”

Jason laughed again, bright and delighted and too far away to touch. Roy looked up.

He locked eyes with Jason through the screen, letting that sparkling heat saturate his gaze, and was gratified at the surprised pleasure in Jason’s face. It wasn’t an obvious thing, of course, but Roy had spent years learning how to read Jason - it was all there, in the slight tilt of his head, the widening of his eyes, the way his tongue darted out to skate distractedly over the chapped cushion of his lower lip.

“Well,” Jason said, just this side of breathless, “I hope the new headliner can compete.”

“It’s even better,” Roy promised, backing toward the bed. He sank down onto it when the soft edge bumped the back of his knees, scooting up the mattress until he was in nearly the same position he’d been in when this call started.

“Says who?” Jason pressed. Roy bit at his own lip, relaxing back into the cluster of decorative pillows nestled against the headboard.

“Rotten Tomatoes ranked it a solid 87,” he supplied huskily.

“In that case,” Jason drawled thoughtfully, smirking, wicked, and leaning in toward his screen, “I think you better give me a front row seat.”

“I could probably make that happen,” Roy replied, palming himself through the placket of his black cargo shorts. He’d been nursing low-grade buzz of arousal since he first heard Jason’s voice, and it was the work of a few rough passes, some rocking pressure to get himself halfway to hard. He added conspiratorially, “I’ve got an in with the star of the show.”

“Looks like it’s my lucky day,” Jason said distractedly, slate dark gaze intent on Roy’s face. Roy could feel the heat suffusing his cheeks, didn’t bother to try and keep his mouth from dropping open around a moan as he hit a particularly satisfying rhythm. He was rewarded for it when Jason breathed, “Fuck, Roy.”

His pupils were huge, dark circles, pink flush staining the bridge of his nose. It was immensely flattering to Roy’s ego to see that Jason was so into it already. This wasn’t anything new, not really, though the last time they’d indulged the benefits part of their friendship had been months ago, before all the trouble with Mr. Twister and Troia and Jade. Before Jason was a fugitive for real - a thought that Roy probably shouldn’t have found quite as attractive he did. He moaned again, this time with a slightly keening edge.

“This isn’t the kind of entertainment I expected from rehab,” Jason said. Roy laughed, thin and breathless, as he reached down to undo the button-fly of his shorts.

“Special screening,” he replied. “One night only.”

He could hear the slightly ragged edge of Jason’s breath, and it sent a tingling wave cascading down his spine. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, biting his lip on a soft gasp when his curled knuckles brushed the head of his cock.

“You planning to change up the camera angle anytime soon?” Jason asked pointedly.

“Give it a second,” Roy murmured, flashing Jason a quick, smug grin. “Embrace the anticipation, Jaybird.”

“I’ll embrace the end call button if you don’t quit teasing,” Jason warned.

“Okay, okay, jeez!” Roy clicked his tongue admonishingly and withdrew his hand, settling his phone carefully on the nightstand, tilted against the milk-glass lamp at just the right angle to catch Roy from his head to just above his knees. “Will that work for you, your highness?”

Jason inclined his head graciously. “You may proceed.”

“So glad I have your permission,” Roy grumbled, mostly on principle, though he admitted it probably lost a lot of effect with the way he was yanking his shirt off over his head and shimmying out of his shorts. “Better?”

“Much,” Jason assured, the rough rasp of his voice licking firebrand hot through Roy’s belly. His blue eyes blazed, ice-bright with the same sharp focus he got when he was making a difficult shot from a distance. “Touch yourself.”

Roy shivered.

“That’s the plan,” he agreed weakly, reaching down to where his dick was tenting his briefs, dark patch already seeping into the heather-grey cotton.

“I’ve always preferred a man of action,” Jason quipped, and Roy sucked a breath past his teeth, dipped his hand through the opening in his briefs, and curled his fingers around himself in a loose fist. He bucked up into the barely-there pressure and made a soft, needy sound in the back of his throat.

“How’s that for action?” He flashed a grin over at the screen and was immensely gratified by the slow, hungry slide of Jason’s tongue across his lower lip.

“It’s a start.” Jason’s voice was low and dark with promise. Roy’s dick twitched helplessly against his fingers and he tightened his grip, moaning a little at the greater friction.

“What else do you want me to do?” Roy surprised himself by asking, softer and less certain than he’d intended.

It was no big secret that Jason had some control issues, and even less of one that the bedroom was the one place where Roy would routinely take direction and like it. He’d had every intention of leading this expedition but the idea of passing the reigns over to Jason turned his insides liquid in the best way. Jason certainly seemed up to the task, not hesitating for a moment before ordering, “Lose the briefs. I want the full picture here, Red.”

“Fuck,” Roy sighed. “Okay, yeah, just - “

Disentangling his hand was a less graceful exercise than he’d anticipated, but Jason didn’t seem to mind his sudden lack of coordination so long as it ended with his underwear shoved unceremoniously down his thighs and his dick curving up toward his belly. It felt extra obscene to be exposed like this in the buttery late afternoon sunlight, laid out atop a comforter striped with delicate sprays of roses.

“What now?”

“Touch yourself,” Jason instructed. “Slow.”

Roy raised his hand to his mouth, licking his palm in a wide, hot stripe. He watched Jason over his fingers while he did so, satisfied at the way Jason’s gaze darkened, the flush rising in his face.

He took himself in hand, bucking into the pressure with a long, smooth roll of his hips, just as Jason instructed. It was the way Jason liked to do it, when they were together - get Roy’s engine revving off the starting block and then lay him out and touch him slow and sweet and lazy, until he was ready to beg for a return to speed.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jason praised. Roy groaned his agreement, swiping his thumb over the purpled head of his dick on the downstroke. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

He was breathing a little heavier than normal, like he’d just finished a light jog, which for Jason was halfway to wrecked. Roy cut him the smuggest, slyest grin he could muster, and said, “I could hazard a guess.”

Jason grumbled something that was probably fondly disparaging of Roy’s general character, and then asked, “Do you have lube?”

That was enough to bring Roy to a momentary stop, arching an incredulous eyebrow at Jason’s face on the screen and replying, “Why would I bring _lube_ to rehab?”

“You’re gonna be there for two months,” Jason replied, as though it were obvious. “Seems like bad planning to leave it behind when it’s just you and your hand for that long.”

Roy rolled his eyes.

“Really killing the mood here, Jay,” he advised, nodding to where he was lazily fisting his cock.

“Right, sorry,” Jason said, and then visibly shook himself, like a dog coming in out of the rain. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

Roy did, only feeling vaguely ridiculous. It was lucky for Jason that he was hot enough for Roy to be more interested in getting off in front of his pretty, pretty face than in giving him shit, however rightfully deserved it may be.

“Good, that’s good,” Jason said. “Get ‘em nice and wet. Sloppy.”

Roy could guess where this was going, and it made sparks flood from his dick out through his fingertips. He did his best to comply, putting on as much of a show as he couldmanage with all six foot spare of him crammed onto a rickety twin mattress. Jason kept up his gentle, worshipful commentary, praising the way that Roy moved when he rolled up into the heat of his own grasp, the flush that had spilled by now nearly all the way to his belly button, the way his lips looked stretched around two of his fingers.

“ _Fuck_ , Roy,” he groaned with feeling after a few minutes. There was the soft clink of a buckle and the susurrus of fabric shifting and then one of his arms fell out of frame.

Roy moaned around his fingers, withdrawing them to ask, “Are you - “

“Yeah,” Jason confirmed, before he’d even finished.

“You’re on a roof,” Roy responded stupidly. Jason’s returning smirk was a wicked sliver in the dark.

“Technically I’m on a balcony,” he corrected, voice husky. “Take it as a compliment.” Roy could see the flex and shift of his shoulder as he stroked himself, and the motion raised a prickling wave of gooseflesh across Roy’s shoulders. “Now, how about you take those fingers and open yourself up, just like I would? Nice and slow.”

Roy shivered at Jason’s request, the resulting rush of white-hot want that leapt like lightning up his spine. He skimmed his fingertips along the contours of his body, down the line of his hip to dip between his legs and press, careful and teasing, against his hole. His cock jumped in his other hand and he gave it an absent squeeze to stave off the orgasm he could feel building, distant and electric like a storm on the horizon. He didn’t have the patience to take the kind of time Jason preferred - getting Roy splayed out on his belly and fingering him until Roy was practically sobbing with need, every slow, taunting thrust of Jason’s long, callused fingers punctuated by the obscene sounds of excessive lube - but he did his best to adhere to the spirit of Jason’s instruction if not the letter.

He circled his rim with his spit-slick fingertips a few times before sinking both fingers in up to the first knuckles - a little overly ambitious for what Jason was asking after, maybe, but the slight stretch of too much too fast pulled a low, needy groan out of Roy that the other man echoed immediately enough that Roy was confident he didn’t much mind the deviation. He wiggled his fingers a bit, savoring the flex and stretch, and rocked back and forth in shallow waves, alternating between working his fingers deeper and fucking into the loose grip of his fist, slick with precum.

“That’s it,” Jason crooned breathlessly. “Nice and easy, babe.”

Roy would deny to his dying breath that he made any sound in response to Jason’s casual diminutive, let alone a helpless, whining keen.

It was the work of a few careful minutes to work himself loose enough to start riding his fingers with purpose - spit wasn’t as helpful a lubricant as porn made it seem. Fortunately, Roy had never minded his sex being a little rough and he wasn’t about to start now, when a quick glance showed him a pink-faced, black-eyed Jason Todd who was hooked on the spectacle before him like he’d been hypnotized, murmuring vague sweet nothings under his breath and half-panting with the effort of chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” Roy moaned, “Jay.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Jason gasped. “I know.”

There was sweat beading at his temples. His hair would have been curling down over his forehead if he hadn’t shaved it all off, but Roy couldn’t bring himself to mourn the lost locks too much. Not when Jason’s skull-cap buzz left his beautiful face so completely open. He was all marble-pale skin and burning blue eyes over a mouth bitten red and swollen lush and Roy _wanted_ with every fiber of his being.

“Come on, Roy,” Jason goaded sweetly, voice a scraped-raw wreck of his usual baritone. “Come for me, babe. You’re so close - I can see, you’re so fucking close.”

Roy’s fingers were just long enough to brush against his prostate from this angle, if he curved them just right and tilted his hips in a certain way. His dick was a rigid bar of silk-slippery heat underneath his palm, and his balls were so tight that it almost hurt. He teetered for a heartbeat on the razor edge between not enough and too much, every electric nudge of his fingers against his prostate lighting roman candles in his belly.

It was Jason’s voice that toppled him over the edge, cracking desperately around Roy’s name and making everything in Roy pull so taut he was certain it would snap before it broke loose.

His orgasm rocked over him like a tidal wave, stealing Roy’s breath and making his head spin. He striped his belly and his chest in thick, hot ropes, sobbing his way through it and pushing desperately back onto his fingers in a vain effort to drive them deeper still. It was unfair, Roy thought, once he was able to cogently consider anything beyond blinding euphoria, that it was this good with Jason when the bastard wasn’t even here.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, after he’d stopped gasping and panting like he’d just run a marathon on less than a week’s training.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. Roy glanced over at his phone to find Jason collapsed back against that brick wall, head lolling and limbs loose, eyes narrowed to feline-pleased sapphire slits.

For a split second, Roy considered saying something so foolish as to be utterly life ruining, like telling Jason he loved him. Instead, he blurted the next best thing, which was, “Maybe I _should_ have brought lube.”

Jason laughed, a lazy, exhausted shade of his usual humor, but Roy couldn’t begrudge him that, if Jason had come even half as hard as Roy had.

“I’ll send you a care package,” he teased. Roy snorted.

“No way you have your shit together enough to mail a care package before I get released back into the world, Jaybird,” he said easily.

Jason hummed, considering. “Guess I’ll just have to have some waiting for you when you get out, then.”

Roy cut him a sly, heated grin.

“Now, that,” he agreed, “is a plan I can get behind.” He paused, and then winked. “Hopefully literally.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head and muttered something under his breath that was likely lamenting Roy’s clinical lack of shame. He studied Roy for a long, comfortable moment, and said, almost sheepishly, “This isn’t what I called for.”

Roy smiled at him, for real this time.

“I know,” he assured, settling himself more comfortably against the pillows and wiping his sticky hands on the comforter. “The blisteringly hot phone sex was a gift, from me to you.”

“You’re so generous,” Jason responded dryly. Roy wagged his eyebrows and Jason snorted.

“It’s a going away present,” he insisted. “Something to remember me by.”

“You’re the one who keeps saying you’ll be out of there in no time!”

Roy shrugged, something of an awkward motion considering that he was lying down but he couldn’t be bothered to care too much, sleep saturating his limbs like warm molasses, the way it always did after a really phenomenal orgasm.

“Still gonna miss you,” he murmured drowsily. He reached out for his phone, careful not to turn over too far and further ruin his bedding. Jason was watching him with the softest expression Roy had ever seen. It made something warm and bright fizz to life between his ribs.

“I’ll miss you too, Roy,” Jason said quietly. “I’ll see you soon, though. And I’m gonna have your drug cartel all wrapped up in a nice red ribbon for you.”

“Aw, Jay,” Roy drawled, fluttering his lashes. “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, Arse-face,” Jason replied. Roy grinned at him, eyelids already drooping.

“See you soon, Jay.”

“Yeah, bud,” Jason nodded. It felt like a promise. “Soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> And don’t worry - I haven’t given up on my other JayRoy fic, I’m just hopping fandoms a bit right now out of writer’s block and general anxiety. <33


End file.
